Fall From Grace
by EcoSeeker247
Summary: When Malo de Vigny is given the opportunity of a lifetime, he accepts it, eager to show all of Paris that he is a serious violin virtuoso. But the road to a solo career may turn out to be more difficult than he imagined-and even deadly at times-when he finds himself unexpectedly crossing paths with the beautiful and mysterious Justine Florbelle. *Rated T, but may change to M later*
1. A Night at the Conservatory

All right! So a few months ago, I posted the story "Fall From Grace", which was going to be three chapters long and based on the _Amnesia: Justine _DLC. But as I was writing the final chapter, I suddenly got attacked by a bunch of plot bunnies, so I decided to take it down, rewrite it, and repost it. Like the original version, I don't think this is going to be a long story, maybe ten chapters at the most, but I've got so many ideas for it that I wanted to write down.

Just like the original, this is going to focus on one of the Suitors from _Justine_, mainly Malo de Vigny and the back story the game gives us about him. I've seen stories about what Aloïs and Basile might have been like before meeting Justine, but not Malo, and this is just my headcanon on what he might have been like before the events of the game. Enjoy! :)

**DISCLAIMER: **Only my OCs, names for certain characters, and plot ideas are mine. Everything else belongs to Frictional Games.

**WARNING: **There are spoilers from _Amnesia: Justine _throughout this story.

* * *

**Chapter One: A Night at the Conservatory**

_**December 20**__**th**__**, 1857-Conservatoire de Paris…**_

The only sound currently echoing through the concert hall was the sound of Frederic Chopin's _Piano Trio in G Minor, Op. 8_, which made Alfred St. Laurent beam with pride as he kept his eyes focused on the three musicians currently on stage. The rest of the orchestra had done its part after a lovely rendition of Jacques Offenbach's _Concerto Militaire in G_, and Alfred had decided that having these three perform together would be a good way to conclude the evening. Next to him, Josephine Devereux, one of the piano instructors, and Charles Fontaine, a cello teacher, also watched proudly as the students threw all their energy into playing Chopin's piece, earning the approval of the audience.

The young, blonde, twenty-year old woman sitting at the piano glanced up briefly and smiled at the brown-haired cellist and the redheaded violinist, both of who were the same age as her. They returned the gesture before going back to concentrating on their instruments, the redhead closing his eyes as he lost himself in the music. He was the one Alfred was watching the most out of all three of them, and the middle-aged violin teacher adjusted his glasses as a smile crossed his face as well. He had been crossing his fingers that the young man would overcome his anxiety about tonight's performance, and it was such a relief to see that he had.

Once the concert was over, the audience stood up and gave the orchestra a standing ovation, followed by the trio who had closed out the night. Alfred whistled and clapped loudly as the three of them took each other's hands and bowed, a shower of flowers pouring onto the stage from all different directions. The young pianist stopped to pick them up just as more landed at her feet, the thunderous applause suddenly rising to even louder decibels.

"Bravo!" a few different people in the audience shouted, "Bravo!"

After a few more minutes, the curtains finally lowered, and once the audience began to clear out, Alfred, Josephine, and Charles also got up from their seats, heading towards the dining hall backstage for the private dinner that was to take place afterwards. Fortunately, everyone was already there, taking his or her place at the long table as soup was being brought out for everybody. Near the head of the table was a woman in her early forties, wearing a pearl necklace and her fanciest navy blue evening gown, her dark red hair pulled back into a bun. She was seated next to two of the members of the final trio, offering her congratulations over and over again and barely able to keep the excitement out of her voice.

"Mademoiselle Delacroix, Monsieur Mercier!" she was saying as she clapped with delight, "You were wonderful! Simply wonderful! All three of you! And the orchestra…if Monsieur Offenbach himself had been able to attend tonight's performance, he would have been proud!"

"_Merci, _Madame de Vigny," Colette Delacroix, the pianist, replied as she flashed the older woman a demure smile, "We're very grateful that you could be here to support us tonight."

Madame de Vigny laughed warmly, reaching for Colette's hand. "Anything for my son and his friends, dear," she said, "You all are practically like my family! I will do everything in my power to support the Conservatory as much as I can. This place, you two, and Monsieur St. Laurent have been so good to me and Malo ever since…well, you know…"

The three of them instantly fell silent, unwilling to dredge up painful memories during such a joyous occasion. Alfred adjusted his tie as he took a deep breath and began to walk over to them just as François Mercier broke the silence.

"Speaking of Malo," he piped up, "Where is he? He said he was going to use the toilet, but it's been at least ten minutes now. We shouldn't start the celebration without him. I'll even go look for him myself."

"I'll go with you," Colette volunteered, hurriedly placing her napkin back on the table.

Alfred steadily approached them, clearing his throat to get their attention. He had seen the young violinist slip away from the rest of the group, and if he knew him as well as he thought he did, he knew exactly where he had gone. "I will go," he decided, "_S'il vous plait, _enjoy the soup. We won't be but a moment."

Madame de Vigny relaxed as she moved her hand away from Colette's and reached for his instead. "Thank you," she whispered to him, "You are too kind."

Alfred smiled at her and then turned to go back out into the hallway, swiftly heading in the direction of the violin classroom. Before he went there, though, he made a pit stop in his own office, opening the top drawer of his desk as he reached for something wrapped in ornate paper with a ribbon. Satisfied, he tucked it under his arm and made his way over to his designated classroom, where sure enough, he spotted none other than Malo de Vigny sitting in the far corner of the room.

He was currently perched by the window, silently gazing at the light snow that was falling on the streets of Paris. He reached up and pushed a lock of hair out of his face, sighing as he watched various carriages pass by as they, too, became coated in snow.

"I thought I might find you in here," Alfred spoke up, lightly tapping the door as Malo slowly turned away from the window to face him. As soon as those dark green eyes met his, Alfred took a deep breath. He wasn't going to deny it: sometimes, Malo de Vigny could be difficult. He had always been like that, even from when he was a child and first started taking lessons at the Conservatory, but except for a select few, nobody could really approach him and talk to him…including his own mother sometimes.

Without saying a word, Malo looked away again, more interested in what was going on outside than what his teacher had to say. Alfred picked up on this, pulling up a chair so that he could sit next to his student. "Why are you sitting in here alone?" he asked, "You should be celebrating with the rest of us, and your friends are worried about you."

At that, Malo faced the older man again, sighing as he shook his head. "Sorry, Monsieur St. Laurent," he apologized in his trademark husky voice, "I've just got a lot on my mind, that's all."

Alfred frowned, folding his hands on his lap. "Talk to me," he said, "What's troubling you? You have so much to be proud of tonight. You, Mademoiselle Delacroix, and Monsieur Mercier played Chopin's _Piano Trio _to perfection. Your mother has been doing nothing but singing your praises as well."

But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he had a feeling that he knew exactly what was bothering Malo. He studied the melancholy expression on the violinist's face, one that he had seen several times in the past. "You know your father would also be very proud of you if he could see what a talented musician you've become," he continued, which seemed to get Malo's attention at last.

"That's the thing," he replied, "I wish he could have been here tonight. I never really thought about it, since it happened so long ago, but tonight, when we were bowing at the audience…it just hit me out of nowhere. I even tried looking for him in the crowd, though I knew he wouldn't be there. Is that wrong? That I still become preoccupied by it from time to time?" He glanced up, his eyes a little bit wilder than they had been a few minutes ago, and Alfred moved his chair a little closer to the window.

"No," he assured him, "No, of course not. You miss him, and that's perfectly normal. I know that nothing I say will erase the pain, but just know that a part of him is still with you, and always will be. You're keeping his legacy alive through your music."

Malo smiled weakly as he reached for his violin, which he had placed next to him on the windowsill. "I suppose you're right," he conceded as he ran his hand across the polished instrument, "Do you really think he would be proud of me?"

Alfred returned the grin. "I don't _think _he would. I _know_ he would. You've come a long way since you first started here. As a matter of fact, I have a surprise for you." He pulled out the wrapped up package and handed it to Malo, who stared at it with curiosity.

"I was going to wait until after class tomorrow to give this to you, but under the circumstances, I decided it would be better to do this now. Think of it as an early Christmas gift."

Malo carefully untied the ribbon, hurriedly tearing through the paper as he let it fall to the ground. As soon as he saw what it was, his eyes widened in shock, which made his violin instructor grin from ear to ear.

"Georges Bizet?" Malo whispered under his breath as he flipped through a book of what appeared to be songs for the violin.

"It's a brand new arrangement of songs he has put together," Alfred explained, "We would like to debut them at our spring concert in March, and Monsieur Bizet himself has specifically requested that you be the lead violinist."

Malo's face paled, his mouth dropping open as he processed what Alfred was telling him. He could hardly believe what he was hearing as he glanced up from the notes of _La Rose et L'abeille_, his sadness from a few minutes ago being replaced by cautious excitement. "M-me?" he stammered, a sweat breaking out on his forehead, "Oh, I-I couldn't possibly…I mean, I don't think I could do his music justice…"

"Of course you could, Malo," Alfred assured him, "You're at the top of your class, and you've mastered your part of Chopin's _Piano Trio_. Monsieur Bizet still speaks very highly of your performance at the summer concert, and even though he's currently in Rome, he sent me this book in the hopes that you would want to take this opportunity. I know you enjoy playing pieces with your friends and the rest of the orchestra, but I think you're ready to try going solo now. This could be the one performance that secures your career for the rest of your life! Any respectable composer in Paris will want to work with you!"

He leaned back in his seat, watching as Malo frowned at the sheet music, as if he was locked in a battle with himself. He knew this was a lot to ask of the young musician, but out of all his students, he wanted to see Malo succeed the most after everything he had been through growing up.

"Just at least consider it," he continued, "You don't have to let me know of your decision tonight if you're not sure."

Malo tucked the book under his arm, smiling weakly again as he nodded. "I will. Thank you, Monsieur St. Laurent. Thank you for everything."

* * *

_**Later on that night…**_

The fireplace was making the bedroom a little too warm, but Malo paid it no mind as he climbed into bed, reaching for the book of Bizet's songs as he pulled the covers over himself. All evening, his mind had been reeling with the idea of going solo for the first time, being the first one to perform the songs his teacher had given him. He had to admit that the very thought of it made him nervous, and he was grateful that Monsieur St. Laurent hadn't brought it up during dinner. He didn't think he would be able to keep his food down.

As he read the sheet music for _La Rose et L'abeille _again, Malo reflected on the fact that Bizet was his age, and had also taken lessons at the Conservatory. The idea that somebody who was the same age could instantly become a successful composer was mindboggling, and he couldn't help but envy him a little bit.

Suddenly, he heard somebody knock on his door. "Come in!" he called out, and he glanced up as his mother poked her head into the room, then fully entered as she shut the door behind her.

"You're still awake?" she asked, "I figured you would be tired from your big night."

As soon as she said that, Malo stifled a yawn. "I can't sleep," he said, burying his nose deeper into his book as Madame de Vigny sat on the edge of the bed.

"Monsieur St. Laurent told me your wonderful news," she announced excitedly, "Congratulations! You must be ecstatic!"

Malo exhaled, blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes. "I am," he responded, though his tone seemed to imply otherwise. If his mother picked up on that, she didn't show it, merely taking Bizet's book from him and examining it.

"Oh, I cannot _wait _to share our good fortune with everyone at the ball on Christmas!"

At those words, Malo sat up a little straighter, adjusting his blankets. "Ball?" he echoed, a chill going down his spine.

Madame de Vigny chuckled. "Don't tell me you forgot already!" she joked, "The Christmas ball that the Racine family is hosting. We received our invitation not too long ago."

_Now _the violinist remembered, and he sighed dejectedly as he leaned back on his pillows. Living in high French society definitely had its perks, but he was never one to be interested in attending balls or any sort of parties. He figured that time could be better spent on something more meaningful, like playing the violin, not to mention he always felt awkward mingling with anybody that wasn't his family or close friends. "Right," he mumbled, "That one. I'm sure you'll have a good time." He took the book back, burying his nose in it again to avoid his mother's gaze.

This time, Madame de Vigny picked up on her son's deflating mood and frowned. "I think it would do you good to go with me," she told him, "The Delacroix and Mercier families will both be there, so it's not as if you won't have anyone to socialize with. I believe Lucien and Clémence Racine also have a son, either your age or a little bit older, so perhaps you two shall meet and become friends. Besides…" Her serious expression melted away into a hopeful grin.

"Maybe you will also find a suitable wife."

Malo slammed the book shut, a blush creeping onto his face as his cheeks turned red. "You know," he said, lowering himself under the covers even more, "I'm starting to feel a little tired now. I think I'll just be going to sleep."

But Madame de Vigny wouldn't let it go that easily. "I just want you to at least _look _at some of the other young ladies that will be attending. You never know who you might meet. Perhaps you and Colette-"

"_Bonne nuit_, Mother," Malo quipped, adding a little more force to his voice until Madame de Vigny finally left the room, pulling the door shut behind her. As soon as she was gone, he sighed and reached for Bizet's book again, holding it in his hands as he thought about both the upcoming spring concert and his mother's wish for him to attend the Christmas ball with her. She meant well. She truly did, but there were a ton of things that she either genuinely didn't notice or didn't _want _to notice. She had just assumed that Malo had accepted the offer to be the lead violinist when he hadn't said such a thing yet.

If there was one thing Monsieur St. Laurent was right about, though, it was that this spring concert would either make or break him, and even if he wasn't ready to admit it yet, he really wanted to begin trying to establish himself in Parisian society. He just wasn't sure if this was the way to go about doing that. If he accepted the offer, all eyes would be on him for the next three months, watching his every move as he prepared to go solo for the first time. If he declined it, Bizet, Monsieur St. Laurent, and his mother would all be disappointed in him, and knowing them, they would never let him live it down, leaving him to forever wonder what could have been.

_But this is something I love, _he thought to himself as he began biting his fingernails, a horrible habit that he just could not seem to break, especially since he was a violinist. But he had to do _something_. Otherwise, he'd just spiral further into anxiety, which he could not allow to happen.

And it was while he was doing that that Malo finally fell asleep, clutching Bizet's books in his other hand as he decided he'd wait until tomorrow to face reality.


	2. Old Friends, New Encounters

All right! I'm _finally _here with the next chapter of "Fall From Grace"! I'm sorry this took so long, and I meant to post it yesterday, but I kept getting Fanfiction Error Type 2 whenever I tried to use the Doc Manager. I'm still getting the error, but fortunately, I managed to find a way around it, so here's the next chapter! Thank you to everyone who's been reading this story, and I promise the next chapter won't take as long! :)

**DISCLAIMER: **Only my OCs, names for certain characters, and plot ideas are mine. Everything else belongs to Frictional Games.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Old Friends, New Encounters**

**_ December 25th, 1857…_**

The rest of the city passed by slowly as the carriage hit a few bumps in the road, but Malo kept his eyes focused on the Bois de Boulogne, wishing that he could be one of the trees standing tall outside. At least they didn't have to attend Christmas balls or worry about the future of their musical careers. He sighed as he twirled a lock of red hair around his finger, doing everything he could to quell his nerves.

Although five days had passed since the winter concert, Malo still hadn't made a decision about playing Bizet's songs. Monsieur St. Laurent had been pretty understanding and told him to let him know by the end of the week, but his mother…well, she was a different story. "Perhaps you will have a decision by the end of the evening," she said in a slightly impatient tone of voice as she leaned forward and tapped her son's hand gently, "You could try listening to the orchestra. They may inspire you."

"Perhaps they will," Malo echoed, which seemed to appease his mother as she smiled at him from across the carriage.

Eventually, they made it to the heart of the 16th Arrondissement, where Malo could see a line of carriages in front of theirs as other esteemed guests arrived at the Racine household. He couldn't help but gape at the sight of the mansion itself: it was much bigger than any other house he'd seen-even his own-and he could have sworn he saw a racquetball court in the yard behind the house when they rounded the corner. He lost count of how many windows the mansion had, and he would be surprised if the Racines didn't get lost wandering around the different hallways. The Vignys and their circle of friends were fairly well off, but this was a whole new level of wealthy.

Once their carriage finally pulled up to the front, the driver climbed out and opened the door, allowing Malo to exit first, and then turn around to help his mother. Taking a deep breath, he escorted her up the stairs, hoping and praying that this evening would go smoothly. The two of them easily fell into the rest of the crowd, taking their time as Lucien and Clémence Racine stood at the door, greeting each guest as they entered the mansion.

"_Bienvenue,_" they were saying as the Vignys inched closer and closer to them, "_Joyeux Noël_! And a Merry Christmas to you as well, Monsieur Lefévre!" The man they had been addressing tipped his hat politely before escorting his wife, Béatrice, into the house.

Once everyone else in front of them was taken care of, Malo and his mother approached the Racines, Clémence looking them over and smiling as her husband did the same.

"Good evening, Madame de Vigny," she greeted warmly, "We are very honored to have you and your son with us tonight."

"Thank you, Madame Racine," Genevieve replied, nodding, "We are honored to have received an invitation."

"So this must be young Malo, then," Lucien spoke up, gesturing to the redhead man, "Tell me: is it true that you have been playing the violin since you were a child?"

Malo felt a sweat break out on his forehead, and he resisted the urge to loosen his shirt collar as he replied, "_Oui_, Monsieur Racine. But only a little bit."

"He is a most excellent student," Genevieve spoke up, chuckling, "He is simply very modest about it, that's all. In fact, we have some exciting news to share with all of you tonight!"

"Mother…" Malo hissed under his breath, but nobody seemed to hear him as the Racines resumed fawning over him as if he was their own son.

"Wonderful!" Clémence cried as she clapped her hands, "We have dancing right now, but later on, we will be inviting everyone to dine with us, and we will be looking forward to what you have to say. For now, come in, and enjoy yourselves!"

Malo and Genevieve nodded and proceeded to make their way inside, but not before Malo happened to glance up at one of the many windows and spot somebody watching him. He didn't recognize the face, since it was gone as quickly as it had come, but for some reason, it gave him a weird feeling in his gut. He shrugged it off as they eventually allowed the maids to take their coats, leaving them in a designated side room before making their way over to the ballroom.

It was as every bit majestic as he thought it would be, with a large Christmas tree near the band-which was hidden behind a thin, green curtain-and green and red banners hung up on the walls. He could already see many people on the dance floor, engaging in the quadrille while others sat on the side, watching and possibly hoping that they would get a chance to dance as well. A table with hors d'oeuvres and lemonade was set up across from the band, and Malo decided that that would be his first stop for the evening. Neither the Delacroix nor Mercier families had arrived yet, and he didn't want to stand in the middle of the ballroom like an idiot while his mother socialized with some of the other married women in attendance.

Sure enough, he heard her whisper, "I see a few of my friends from the tea room I always go to, so I am going to speak with them and catch up on the latest news. I don't see your friends yet, so you shall have to find someone else to speak with until they arrive." She squeezed his hand lightly as she leaned in to add something else.

"I hope to hear some _other _good news by the end of the evening, as well."

Malo briefly froze, but then laughed to calm himself down. "I can't promise anything," he responded, "But I'll try." **  
**

* * *

About an hour and a half had passed since Genevieve left her son to his own devices, and Malo had remained by the hors d'oeuvres table, slowly sipping on his cup of lemonade as an excuse not to leave his designated spot. The ball was nearly in full swing now, with the orchestra currently playing a minuet, and he glanced over his shoulder at some of the young ladies around his age who were still sitting and waiting to be asked to dance. He knew he should probably go over and ask one of them himself, but his shyness always seemed to get in the way. Even at twenty years old, he still hadn't shown a romantic interest in anyone, much to his mother's dismay. He never knew what to say to women, always worried that he would end up driving them away, so he simply kept to himself.

Besides, he was always busy practicing the violin and trying to work out other issues, so he never had time to really deal with his love life, or lack thereof.

"Pardon me, but are you related to Antoine de Vigny, by any chance?"

Malo gasped, nearly choking on his lemonade at the mention of that name, and he whirled around as he spotted a young man around his age, maybe a few years older, standing behind him. He wore a dark blue jacket over his suit, and his blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. When Malo took a closer look at him, he realized this was the face of the person who had been watching him and his mother through the window.

"_Oui_," the violinist answered curtly, "He was my father. Why do you ask?"

The blonde man shrugged. "I happened to notice the family resemblance, that's all. You have his face." Malo nodded coolly and turned back towards the table, not in the mood to be addressed so rudely by someone he had never met before.

"My parents used to take me to go see him in concert," the man continued as he moved to stand right next to Malo, "I've never been interested in music, but they thought it would be good for me to be exposed to the arts. Dreadfully boring, if you ask me." He reached for a small sandwich and a cup of lemonade as he continued to keep up the conversation.

"So, do you play the violin like he did?"

"_Oui_," Malo repeated, doing his best to keep his voice neutral, "Ever since I was five years old. I guess you could say it runs in the family."

"That's nice," the blonde man replied, grinning from ear to ear, "Everyone must be so proud of you. I know my parents appeared to be before, when they were greeting you and your mother."

Malo shrugged, moving away from the table as his apparent new friend followed him. "They were simply asking me about the violin," he said, "Nothing more. Although it shouldn't matter to you, seeing as you find music to be boring."

The blonde man laughed. "_Touché_! I suppose the saying 'Like father, like son' has some truth to it after all. You also have his personality, from what I've heard different people say about him in his lifetime."

"Like what?" Malo asked, but before the other man could answer, a new voice spoke up from out of nowhere.

"I see you two have met," Lucien said with pride as he made his way over to the pair, "Malo de Vigny, may I present my son, Aloïs Racine. And Aloïs, this is Antoine and Genevieve de Vigny's son, Malo. You remember attending Monsieur de Vigny's violin concerts, of course."

Aloïs chuckled again, pushing a lock of blonde hair out of his eyes. "_Oui_, we were just discussing that now. I was telling him how I miss those evenings at the Conservatory and how talented his father was."

Malo balked, clutching his cup a little tighter now. "That's not true," he piped up, "You just said-"

"Wonderful!" Lucien interrupted, clapping his hands, "I was hoping you two would get along, and I'm glad to see that you are. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to continue making my rounds to make sure everybody's been introduced to each other. _Au revoir_!" With another broad grin and a wave, he turned on his heel and began cutting his way across the dance floor as he made his way over to a group of young ladies currently being asked to dance. Once he was gone, Malo turned to face Aloïs, raising an eyebrow again.

"So," he said, "Do you lie to your father like that often?"

"No," Aloïs admitted, glancing down at the ground, "Only with certain things. What he doesn't know won't hurt him." He shook his head and broke into another friendly grin.

"So, do you have any friends that are supposed to be attending my family's ball tonight? I invited someone, but she hasn't arrived yet. She's coming all the way from Calais by train and then a carriage is supposed to bring her here. I do hope she hasn't gotten lost. I can't bear to think of her going around in circles all over Paris at this time of night." He craned his neck to look around anxiously, and Malo regarded him as he finished his lemonade, trying to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

"You didn't think to pick her up at the train station and bring her here?" he asked, "I thought that was the proper thing to do." Not that _he _had much experience with that himself, but it was what his mother had always told him, especially when she recounted stories of how she and his father had built up their relationship.

Aloïs' eyes briefly flashed. "She insisted that wasn't necessary, for she considers herself to be above that kind of thing. That's one thing she often says: that the rules don't apply to her. It's why I love her so much."

Malo let Aloïs' words sink in, allowing a passing waiter to take his empty cup from him as he studied the hopeful expression on the blonde man's face. _This woman thinks she's above the rules? _He thought to himself, _That sounds more arrogant than endearing, to be honest_. He didn't say that out loud, though, not wanting to burst Aloïs' bubble.

At the same time, though, it made him think about the qualities that he wanted in a woman, which he had to admit that he wasn't sure about. François often mentioned looking for a woman who had a lot in common with him and had a lively personality to boot. He hadn't had trouble finding someone in those regards, and Malo was genuinely happy for his friend.

He just wondered when it would be his turn to find that special woman that he was able to connect with.

"Well, if it isn't the great Monsieur de Vigny!"

Both Malo and Aloïs turned around as a very familiar voice addressed the redhead, and when Malo took a closer look, he sighed in relief as he spotted François Mercier and Colette Delacroix's younger sister, Marguerite, making their way towards him. _Speak of the devil,_ he thought as he realized Marguerite had been the one to call out to him, a coy grin gracing her face as her light blue eyes lit up like they always did. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that she and Colette were related, for they were nearly polar opposites in both looks and personality. Unlike her older sister, Marguerite had dark brown hair and slightly paler skin, and she was much more outgoing and lively as well, if not a little obnoxious at times.

"My friends are here," Malo announced to Aloïs, "So I'm going to go greet them."

"All right," Aloïs said, winking, "It was very nice to meet you, Monsieur de Vigny." And with that, he turned on his heel and headed back over to the refreshments table just as Marguerite and François eventually made their way over to him.

"It's so good to see both of you," he said as he shook hands with François and gave Marguerite a polite nod, "I was worried I was going to spend most of this ball alone."

"What about Aloïs Racine?" François asked, nodding in the blonde man's direction, "You seemed to hold a conversation with him just fine."

"You know who he is already?" Malo sputtered, surprised.

François nodded. "_Bien sûr. _He's a rising racquetball player who defeated longtime champion Jacques Pascal last summer. Mademoiselle Delacroix and I went to a few of his tournaments when we began seeing each other."

_That would explain the court I spotted behind the mansion when we first arrived, _Malo thought to himself, _It all makes sense now_. That would also give Aloïs celebrity status, though he didn't usually pay attention to that sort of thing.

"_I _heard he's inviting a lady friend to join him tonight," Marguerite spoke up, "One who he met at the match against Pascal. I'll be interested in seeing who she is, and everyone in my club is anxious to find out."

Malo balked at Colette's eighteen-year-old sister. "Where did you hear that?" he asked, wondering if she had somehow crossed paths with Aloïs before all this, "I only just found that out a few minutes ago!"

Marguerite winked at him. "I have friends in very high places, Monsieur de Vigny," she answered, "_Nothing _gets past my ears."

_And that is why I prefer to speak with Colette about anything that's private, _the violinist thought to himself as he sighed, blowing a lock of red hair out of his eyes, _And speaking of Colette…_

"Where's your sister?" he asked, briefly glancing around the ballroom and hoping to spot her amongst the many guests.

"Over there," Marguerite replied immediately, pointing over at a cluster of tables, "Speaking with your mother."

"Who looks _very_ excited to see her, I might add," François said, and Malo followed both their gazes as he, too, watched Genevieve's face light up as she took Colette's hands in hers, enthusiastically greeting the young pianist. It was no secret that his mother absolutely adored her, and she was not very good at being subtle about attempting to play matchmaker for the two of them.

"Why, I bet they're planning the ceremony as we speak!" Marguerite laughed, sending a blush crawling up Malo's cheeks.

"Don't say something like that in jest," he gently chided her, "Your sister and I are simply friends. There is nothing more to it than that." The brunette simply stared at him, that mischievous grin remaining on her face.

"Try me."

Malo ignored her, turning to face Colette as her mother escorted her over to the rest of their group. She was well-turned out tonight, in a satin green ball gown, her hair pulled back into a chignon and adorned with flowers. She and her mother spent most of the walk greeting everyone they passed, Colette curtsying and putting on the polite smile she had practiced over and over again. Eventually, she glanced over in the direction of her friends, eager to pick up the pace so that she could see them. She turned around to whisper something to her mother, who simply nodded and then about-faced to head over to a table on the far side of the room.

"You look very handsome tonight," Colette complimented Malo as soon as she was close enough to him and the others.

"_Merci,_" the violinist thanked her with a small smile, "You look nice as well." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Marguerite shaking her head in exasperation, but he paid her no mind.

It wasn't that Malo didn't care for Colette. Far from it: he cared for her a _lot_…but like a sister. Sure, she was sweet, and certainly not unattractive, but she was a good friend of his from childhood, and it was difficult to see her in a romantic light. He'd tried a couple of times, but he could never generate a spark between them, and he was sure she felt the same way. She had never given any indications that she had feelings for him that ran deeper than friendship, but the way Marguerite was acting made him suspect that maybe there _was _something there.

"_Nice?_" the younger Delacroix sister echoed incredulously, "That is all you can think to say?"

"Oh, do relax, Marguerite," Colette piped up with a laugh, "I think 'nice' is a good enough compliment from one friend to another." Malo sighed with relief as he smiled at her, which she returned along with a wink, and that was enough to allow him to relax as well and extend a hand to her as the orchestra prepared to play another waltz.

"_Merci_, Mademoiselle Delacroix," he thanked her, "Would you accept the honor of being my first dance?"

Even if going to balls wasn't one of his favorite pastimes, he did enjoy dancing with his friends. Not only did it take his mind off of the rest of his life, but it was also a good time to talk, since he knew everyone else would be dancing and wouldn't have the time to try and eavesdrop.

"I'd be delighted!" Colette replied as she smiled again, nodding as she placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her away from Marguerite and François until they ended up on the opposite side of the dance floor.

* * *

"So," Colette whispered as she and Malo continued to dance not too long after they started, "I hear a congratulations might soon be in order?"

Malo exhaled, blowing a lock of hair out of his face as he reached up to twirl her around. "I see your sister isn't the only one who likes to spread news around," he commented, "Is that what my mother was talking to you about when you were with her?"

Colette nodded. "She said she didn't understand why you weren't more excited about it. Monsieur St. Laurent seems to have a lot of confidence in you, and so does Bizet, since he requested you in the first place."

Malo glanced over to his right as he noticed Marguerite and François conveniently trying to dance closer to the two of them, so he used the waltz to lead Colette away from them so that they wouldn't overhear anything after all. "Yes, but I will be the one performing Bizet's new songs for the first time," he said, "I've never done anything solo before. It will be like the time you had to play Chopin's entire _Piano Sonata No. 2_ by yourself. Weren't you nervous the first time you did that?"

Colette considered what he was saying, realizing that there was some truth to it as she recalled last year's summer concert. "_Oui_," she admitted, "But in your case, everyone will be comparing you to your father. They will want to see if you are just as talented as he was."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Malo told her, twirling her again as the waltz reached its crescendo, "What if I'm not? What if I disappoint them all?"

Colette sighed, frowning as she picked up the increasingly worried tone in her friend's voice. This wasn't the first time he had gotten himself worked up like this, and while she still could, she stopped dancing and used her free hand to lift his chin up in order for him to meet her gaze. "You won't," she assured him, "And don't worry about pleasing the crowd so much, or living up to anyone's expectations. As long as _you _know you're talented, it shouldn't matter what everyone else thinks."

Malo took another deep breath as he felt himself start to relax, his friend's words sinking in. "If only it were that simple," he whispered, "But perhaps you're right. Thank you, Colette."

Colette grinned, and the two of them fell silent as they continued their waltz, unaware of all the pairs of eyes watching them from the sidelines.

"Look at that," Genevieve commented proudly as she beamed at them from her table of friends, "See how gracefully they're dancing together? See the way he relaxes in her presence and smiles at her? It's meant to be."

Clémence sighed happily from next to the redheaded woman as she proceeded to fawn over Malo and Colette as if they were a celebrity couple. "Oh, what I would give to be their age again," she quipped as she rested her chin in her hand and smiled softly, "They remind me of myself and Lucien, when he first swept me off my feet."

"Antoine was the same way with me," Genevieve told her, "I can still remember the day he serenaded me with a violin piece he composed himself. It was then that I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him." She paused as she suddenly pictured him in her mind, tears threatening to leak from her eyes because of all the happy memories that now seemed so far away.

"How romantic!" Clémence cried as she adjusted her glasses, "And do you really believe that your son will propose to Mademoiselle Delacroix _tonight_?"

"I certainly hope so," Genevieve answered, "He's already given me many hints that he has feelings for her that run deeper than friendship. For example, he mentioned earlier today about something big he had planned for her after the spring concert in March."

Across from them, Béatrice Lefévre, who had been listening to her friends the entire time, sighed as she pulled her chair closer to them, debating whether or not she should shoot from the hip with what was on her mind. "Madame de Vigny," she started in an uncertain tone of voice, "I don't mean to dash your hopes-or ruin your good mood at all, for that matter-but are you _sure_ that's what your son said? That he is in love with Mademoiselle Delacroix?"

Genevieve frowned, her good mood beginning to evaporate as she considered Béatrice's questions. Leave it to Madame Lefévre to be the one who raised doubts about everything. "What do you mean?" she asked in a slightly defensive tone, "Of course that's what he said! Why else would he say something about big plans? He wouldn't do that if he only saw her as a friend!"

"I'm only asking because I know you sometimes have the tendency to not _truly _listen to what Malo is trying to tell you," Béatrice reasoned carefully, "You have been wrong about him on several occasions, and I suspect you may be wrong about this as well."

"I am not!" Genevieve cried, though Béatrice still clearly thought otherwise.

"Well, what have _you _been seeing while they are dancing together, Madame Lefévre?" Clémence asked.

Béatrice glanced over her shoulder at Malo and Colette again, who were bowing and curtsying at each other respectively before the former led the latter off the dance floor and back over to Marguerite and François. The whole time, she carefully watched both their facial expressions and body language. "I only see friendship," she declared, "A very strong friendship. I do not believe either of them is in love with the other. Not everything is always romantic in nature, and whatever he's planning for her after the concert is more than likely just a friendly gesture." She turned to face her redheaded friend again, tilting her head to the side as another question popped into her mind.

"Why Mademoiselle Delacroix, though? There are several young ladies here that your son could choose from. Why do you want him with her?"

Genevieve sighed as she mulled the question over in her head, frowning as she, too, watched how Malo seemed to completely relax around Colette and the others. "I have my reasons," was all she said, ending the conversation as she, Clémence, and Béatrice all fell silent, unaware of the woman dressed in red that was sitting next to them and had been eavesdropping the entire time.

* * *

**_A few minutes later…_**

"That sounds like another waltz," François commented, turning towards Colette as the orchestra began to play yet another piece after taking a five minute break, "Would you like to dance?"

"Of course!" Colette cried, turning to grin at Malo and Marguerite before she and the cellist made their way back to the dance floor. Malo had been hoping that he wouldn't have to dance with the younger Delacroix sister, but now, he knew that he had no choice. Although he liked her just fine, he would rather dance in silence than hear inane gossip that he didn't really care about. He got enough of that from his own mother as it was.

However, everything he remembered about ball etiquette told him that it was required that a dancing couple make some conversation, so he sighed as he prepared to endure what Colette's sister had to say.

"So, _Monsieur de Vigny_," Marguerite began after they began the waltz, "What were you and Colette talking about so intensely?"

Malo gave her a surprisingly charming smile as he reached up to twirl her around. "Nothing that concerns you," he answered, "Must you always try to stick your nose in everyone else's business?"

Marguerite chuckled, though the violinist noticed it was much harsher than her sister's. "_Touché_! But if _I _don't find out everything that's going on, then who will? What will people in Paris be able to talk about?"

"A _lot _of other things," Malo said, "At least I can tell Colette anything I want without worrying that the whole city will find out. Something I think _you _should take note of."

As the two of them continued to glide across the dance floor, Marguerite laughed again, though this time, it didn't sound as merry. "Surely you must give me a _little _more credit than that, Monsieur de Vigny," she responded as her face turned red in embarrassment, "There are _plenty _of private things I know about, but have never told. You know what I'm talking about." She fixed him with a stern gaze, and Malo felt himself grow tense as he thought about _exactly _what she was referring to. The very mention of it stung him, and part of him wished she hadn't brought it up in the first place.

"I suppose you're right," he reluctantly admitted, "But I still wouldn't tell you anything personal even if my life depended on it."

Marguerite shook her head. "Of course you wouldn't." Another sly grin suddenly broke out across her face.

"That's what the future Madame de Vigny is for."

Another blush crept up Malo's cheeks as he twirled her around again. "I told you," he began as they turned until he was facing the side tables, "Colette and I are simply-"

He never got to finish his sentence, for his eyes suddenly caught something he hadn't noticed before. Or rather, _someone_. He wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed this sooner, between dancing with both Delacroix sisters, and now, part of him wished he had.

For sitting at the table next to his mother and her friends was _the_ most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She was pale-skinned, though that only seemed to enhance her appearance as it contrasted with her jet black hair. Her eyes were dark brown, and her lips the same crimson color that her ball gown was. She looked to be a little bit older than most of the young ladies in attendance, and she also appeared to be by herself, which struck Malo as odd. Nevertheless, there was something about her that left him unable to keep his eyes off her, almost as if her beauty was…_blinding_.

Right now, she was simply watching all the other couples dance, looking bored out of her mind as she began to glance around the ballroom, no doubt trying to find anything else that might be of interest. Malo wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there, or if anybody had asked her to dance yet, but he began to consider approaching her himself after his waltz with Marguerite was over.

But would she want to? Or would she be put off by his general personality? He supposed the only way he'd find out is if he gathered the courage to ask her to dance.

It was almost as if thinking about her had somehow grabbed her attention, for she suddenly turned and glanced in his direction, causing another blush to crawl up his face. He remained rooted to the spot, wondering whether or not he should look away as she broke into a playful grin not unlike Marguerite's, as if she was amused by the mere sight of him. From where she sat, she simply crossed her legs as she continued to study him, even winking as his face became even more flushed.

"The music has stopped, Monsieur de Vigny," Marguerite piped up, bringing him back to the dance floor as he shook his head.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I was just…lost in thought that's all."

Marguerite frowned as she tilted her head to the side. "That's all?" she echoed, "What have you been staring at for the past few minutes?"

Malo glanced over at the mysterious woman again, sighing to himself as he realized he might have to indulge Colette's sister just this once. "Who is she?" he asked, and once Marguerite followed his gaze, she saw exactly who he was talking about and laughed.

"Are _you_ asking _me _for information?" she joked, "_Incroyable_!"

"Just this once," Malo reminded her, "Do you know anything about that woman over there?"

Colette's sister narrowed her eyes as she mulled something over in her mind for a few seconds before perking up once more. "I do," she announced, "She's stopped by my club a couple of times. Her name is-"

Suddenly, a bell rang as people began to leave the dance floor, and Malo dutifully escorted Marguerite back to the others as Lucien, Clémence, and Aloïs made their way to the center of the room, waiting to quiet down before they opened their mouths and began to speak. Just like Aloïs had been able to spot the slight resemblance between Malo and his father, Malo could also see how much the young racquetball player looked just like Lucien. Unlike his parents, however, Aloïs looked less than thrilled about something, and the violinist couldn't help but wonder if his friend he had mentioned earlier had arrived yet. Part of him felt bad for just leaving the blonde man by himself while he went to socialize with his friends, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

"_Bienvenue_," Clémence greeted warmly, "Merry Christmas, and thank you all for attending our holiday ball. It is such a joy to see our friends come together at such a wonderful time, but the evening is not over yet. Dinner is now being served, so if you would all follow us into the dining hall, we may begin the next portion of our evening."

Soon, Malo heard rumbling all around him as everyone went to pair up in order for the men to escort the women into the dining hall. Marguerite smiled as she accepted François' arm, and Malo was about to offer his to Colette when he heard a familiar voice call out to him.

"Monsieur de Vigny, may I have a word with you?"

The redhead turned around as Lucien made his way over to the group. "Yes, of course," he answered, shooting his friends a confused look before walking away with Aloïs' father. He wasn't sure what he'd done wrong, if anything at all, and he had to admit that he was getting anxious again.

But when he eventually saw the reason why Lucien wanted to speak with him, he felt his nerves return…but for an entirely different reason. He couldn't believe his luck as he found himself locking eyes with the beautiful woman he had spotted before, that irresistible grin once again plastered on her face as she joined the two men.

"Malo de Vigny, may I present Mademoiselle Justine Florbelle," Lucien began, "Daughter of Étienne Florbelle. And Mademoiselle Florbelle, this young man is the son of the great Antoine de Vigny. I thought I had introduced everybody who was attending my family's ball, but then I realized you two hadn't met yet. We didn't realize you had received an invitation, Mademoiselle. Nobody saw you enter the mansion, and you didn't announce yourself, either. My wife and I were supposed to greet all of our guests at the door, and I'd hate to think that we broke tradition."

Malo glanced over at Justine Florbelle again as she laughed warmly, patting Lucien's hand. "Well, I did," she said as she took a neatly handwritten invitation out of her handbag and held it up for him to see, "Oh, and your doorman let me in long after you must have stopped greeting all your guests. I just decided to show up a little later and surprise everyone. But now that I'm here, I could really use someone to escort me into the dining hall, as I'm certain the other guests have been paired up already. That is why I asked about this fine gentleman right here." She grinned at Malo, who felt butterflies begin to form in his stomach at the same time, and he quickly glanced over his shoulder at his friends. At the moment, Clémence was directing Aloïs over to where Colette was, watching as he offered to escort her into the dining hall. She looked confused, but accepted anyway as they proceeded to make their way inside along with the other guests.

_Oh God, _the musician thought to himself as he realized he had no choice but to offer his arm to this mysterious woman, _I've never escorted a woman I'm not acquainted with before! And she even asked to be introduced to me, too! What if I mess this up and embarrass myself somehow? No. I won't think about that right now. I CAN'T think about that right now._

"Very well," Malo tried to say in a steady voice as he held his arm out, "May I?"

Justine didn't respond at first, continuing to just stare at him until he began to feel uncomfortable. He hoped a sweat wasn't breaking out on his forehead in that very moment, and part of him wished that he had more of his mother's confidence. _Why _did he have to let his anxiety always take over like this?

Eventually, however, Justine nodded, looping her arm through his as she chuckled softly again. "I'd be honored," she said.

And with that, she allowed him to lead her into the dining hall as Lucien proceeded to escort Béatrice. The whole time, Malo did his best to slow down his rapidly beating heart and act as if he did something like this every day.

In his mind, though, all he could think about was her name.

_Justine Florbelle, _he thought, _Daughter of Étienne Florbelle. _

_Étienne Florbelle. Where have I heard that name before? _

* * *

The dining hall was even more exquisite than Malo had anticipated, but considering how wealthy the Racine family was, he wasn't surprised at this point. Someone had lit the fireplace on the other side of the room, making the room warm and cozy as everyone began taking his or her place at the long table in the center of the room. Malo quickly glanced around and watched as all the other men pulled chairs out for the women they were escorting, and the violinist hastily did the same with the seat to his left, allowing Justine to sit down as she smoothed out her skirt.

"You are quite the gentleman, Monsieur de Vigny," she complimented as she removed her gloves and smiled at him, "Perhaps I made the right choice in requesting you after all." Malo blushed again as he quietly sighed with relief.

"_Merci_," he whispered, "None of the other dinners or balls I've attended have been quite this formal, so forgive me if I commit some sort of _faux pas _during dinner. I'm a little new at all this."

Justine chuckled, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "I can tell," was all she said, which made Malo's face burn even more.

"Was it that obvious?" he asked quietly.

"A _little_," Justine replied, "But don't you worry. I happen to find it quite refreshing."

While there was no denying that he was a little embarrassed, Malo couldn't help but feel…flattered at the same time. All he'd ever heard from some of his fellow musicians was teasing because he'd never courted anyone before, but nobody had ever complimented him for it. He didn't think it was something _worth _complimenting, but clearly, this woman thought otherwise.

"Oh," he stammered, "Well…thank you. I mean…"

He never got to say what he meant, for he pulled his gaze away from Justine in time to see Marguerite, François, Colette, and Aloïs making their way to four vacant seats across from the two of them. Marguerite sat down with no issues, but just as Aloïs prepared to pull Colette's chair out for her, he happened to look up and gasp, his blue eyes widening as his mouth dropped open in shock.

"Just-I mean, Mademoiselle Florbelle!" he cried, correcting himself in time to avoid addressing somebody so informally, "When did you get here?"

At that, Marguerite and François' heads whipped up in shock, and the two of them traded glances with Malo as they all seemed to realize the same thing.

_Wait a minute, _the musician thought to himself as he stared back and forth between Justine and Aloïs, _He knows her already? Does that mean-_

His thoughts were cut off by Aloïs' mother ringing another bell in order to silence her guests, and once everyone had quieted down, Clémence cleared her throat as she stood up from the head of the table, quickly glancing over everyone as she smiled. "Gentlemen," she said, "You may now be seated as we begin with the first course of our dinner tonight."

Malo quickly took his seat as everyone else did the same, and as soon as everyone was settled, he glanced over at Justine and Aloïs again. The former simply smiled at the latter, and seeing this, Marguerite perked up and cleared her throat.

"Are you and Mademoiselle Florbelle acquainted, Monsieur Racine?" she asked, ever searching for anything to gossip about at her club.

François laughed. "Really," he teased, "_That _is your first question at the dinner table?"

Colette, who looked slightly embarrassed at Marguerite's boldness, couldn't help but chuckle quietly as well while Malo remained silent, just listening to his friends banter back and forth. "You mustn't blame a girl for being curious," she spoke up, "Granted, I wouldn't have been as forward about it as my sister, but now that the question's been asked, I'd like to know as well."

Aloïs glared at Marguerite, but it didn't seem to bother her as she continued to smile at him, expecting an answer just like everyone else. "If you must know," he replied, "Yes, we are, though for some reason, she did not let me know she was here sooner. I stayed by the hors d'oeuvres table throughout the ball waiting for her."

Malo reached for his napkin and tucked it in his shirt just as footmen surrounded the table, placing steaming bowls of soup in front of each of the guests. "Perhaps there was a good reason for that," he suggested as he lifted his spoon to his mouth, savoring the taste of the first course, "She did come all the way from Calais, and my friends didn't arrive until almost two hours later, either."

"Monsieur de Vigny has an excellent point," Justine agreed, nodding at him as he beamed, "Besides, if we remained together the entire night, Monsieur Racine, everyone would have talked about us. I would hate to besmirch your family's name somehow, and I know you wouldn't want to do the same to me, either." She bit her lower lip innocently and smiled, which seemed to pacify Aloïs as his frown slowly melted away, a peaceful expression taking over as he sighed. While Malo was once again flattered at how Justine had complimented him, he couldn't help but remember what the racquetball player had said earlier, about how the woman thought the rules didn't apply to her. _Hmm, _he thought, lifting another spoonful of soup to his mouth, _Interesting. Maybe there are exceptions to that._

"_Oui_," Aloïs conceded, "That is true. I would hate for anything to happen to your good name. I would just like to be informed of your arrival a little sooner the next time, though."

"Of course," Justine promised him as she turned to face Malo again.

"You know," she continued, "You never properly introduced me to your friends. I have to admit that they are a rather interesting group. And so are you." She stared deeply into his eyes, causing him to blink and look away as he accidentally dropped his spoon, making a loud clanging noise as a few other dinner guests briefly glanced up.

"Oh!" he gasped, "Right. I must have forgotten my manners." Aloïs simply folded his arms and rolled his eyes from where he sat.

"Mademoiselle Florbelle, may I present Monsieur François Mercier and Mesdemoiselles Colette and Marguerite Delacroix."

Justine gave all three of them a warm smile as she placed her napkin on her lap and finally began to eat her soup as well. "I'm very pleased to make all of your acquaintances," she quipped, "It's nice to finally meet someone who has a solid group of friends." She chuckled.

"Why, I haven't even met Monsieur Racine's friends yet, and I've known him since July!" Aloïs' cheeks suddenly turned bright red as everyone faced him.

"Is that true?" Malo asked, as he neared the end of his first course.

"_Oui_," Aloïs practically mumbled under his breath, "But unfortunately, none of them could make it to my family's ball tonight, so I will have to arrange for a meeting another time."

"Of course you will," Justine echoed, though she didn't really sound like she believed him, which left Aloïs to sigh and simply push his soup around with his spoon.

"So tell me more about yourself, Monsieur de Vigny," Justine piped up after a brief silence.

Malo glanced up as he finished his soup, wiping his mouth with his napkin as he cleared his throat. "There's not much to tell, to be honest," he answered sheepishly.

"I don't think that's true. You're the son of Antoine de Vigny. That opens many doors for you in our society. I assume you are also talented with the violin?"

"He is more than just talented, Miss," François added, smiling at the redhead, "He's at the top of his class!"

Malo briefly glared at him. He never liked bragging about his musical skills, especially to people he didn't know very well, and he was now worried that Justine might find him arrogant. "Thank you, Mercier," he thanked him in a deadpan tone of voice.

"_I _think it's wonderful that your friends are so loyal to you," Justine commented, "They are willing to speak highly of you even when _you _aren't." She smiled again, making Malo wonder what she was thinking about, but it didn't matter. Not at that moment, anyway.

After a little while, the footmen cleared away the first course, eventually returning with the main dish of roast beef, along with an assortment of vegetables, potatoes, salads, and bottles of Pinot Noir. Malo folded his hands on his lap, doing his best to make sure his mouth didn't water at the sight of the roast beef. Although he never let it show, he had a huge appetite, always looking for new foods to try no matter what the situation was.

Once all the food was served, Clémence stood up again, holding a full glass of red wine as she waited for all the conversations at the table to die down again. Once everyone was silent, she smiled as she raised her glass high, eyeing all her guests.

"Before we begin our lovely feast," she started, "I'd like to propose a toast. To Christmas, to good health, and to all of my dearest friends. May we have more wonderful holidays like this one. _Joyeux Noël_!"

"_Joyeux Noël_!" everyone replied, clicking glasses with the person next to them. Justine smiled playfully as she toasted Malo, which he returned before raising his glass to his lips, savoring the taste of the wine on his tongue. Pinot Noir was his favorite, like it always was when Madame Delacroix served it at her small dinner parties, along with a plate of-

"Monsieur de Vigny!"

Malo paused at the sound of Colette's voice addressing him in a harsh whisper, and he opened his eyes as he caught all the others around him except for Justine staring at him with worried expressions on their faces. At first, he wasn't sure why, but when he moved his wine glass away from his mouth, he widened his eyes as he realized that he had drunk more than half of the alcoholic beverage in one fell swoop.

Even Marguerite couldn't find anything to say, only nervously glancing down at her plate, and Malo knew that whenever _she _remained silent, it was something very serious. "Is everything all right, Monsieur de Vigny?" Aloïs questioned, simply staring at him as he tilted his head to the side.

Justine quickly shifted her gaze between Marguerite, Colette, and François, noticing how tense they all looked now as they tried not to glance at each other, as if they were…_scared_.

Yes, that was it. They were scared, and she didn't know why.

"He seems quite all right to me," she assured them, "He just enjoys his wine. Don't we all?"

But Malo's friends weren't convinced, which in turn made him sick with anxiety, which was how the group ended up finishing the remainder of the main course.


End file.
